


Perks

by wasted_truth



Series: The Rickest Morty [4]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted_truth/pseuds/wasted_truth
Summary: Evil Morty gets to come up with his first project, with some help from Rick D-608.





	Perks

“Whatcha – *buuurp* – doin’ there, Morty?” Rick walked into the kitchen from the living room, carrying a bottle with him.

 

Morty was bent over a large circuit board, delicately soldering copper wires into place. He jumped a little when Rick broke his concentration. He sat back and lifted the child-sized goggles that Rick had made for him. “I-I’m, um, trying to increase the network of connections here. I thought I-I could, like, make something like a neural net? But on a circuit board?”

 

Rick took a swig from the bottle. “A neural net, huh? Pretty impressive, kid.” He pulled out the kitchen chair across from Morty and sat down. He scratched at a grey stain on his lab coat and said, “I thought I’d take you shopping today. Now if you want.”

 

“S-S-Shopping?” Morty set down the board and soldering iron with care so he could stare at the man. “You _hate_ shopping, R-Rick!”

 

“You’re right, I do.” Picking up a random piece of shiny metal and polishing it nonchalantly on his lab coat, he continued, “But not _this_ kind of shopping.”

 

Morty blinked in surprise. Even getting Rick to go to the grocery store resulted in hours of moaning and complaining. “W-What kind is that?”

 

Rick smiled and set the metal piece back on the table. “ _Component shopping_. You’re going to pick out your first component of your choice…mechanical, electrical, biological, whatever you want. Maybe even something for your neural net there. Something that doesn’t come from my scraps. Whatcha think?”

 

Excitement filled Morty at the very idea. He’d never had anything new to work with that he had chosen himself. “Th-That sounds awesome!” He pulled the goggles off and tossed them beside his work. “Thank you! Can we go now?”

 

That made Rick chuckle. “Sure we can. Go on, I’ll meet you at the ship.”

 

Morty bolted for the garage, not even realizing that he had left equipment on and plugged in, and that’s why Rick remained behind. He climbed into the ship, buckled up, and let his mind run through all the possibilities of what he could do. So many possibilities!   

 

The driver’s side door opened and Rick slid into his seat, jamming his bottle into a cup holder. He clicked the button that opened the garage door and then guided the ship out, humming under his breath.

 

It had been three months, almost four, since Rick had brought Morty from the Citadel. They had started to fall into a rhythm. Rick took on most of the parent roles when necessary, making sure Morty had clean clothes and food, but requiring Morty to do for himself as well. Rick spent a lot of time working on a variety of gadgets, everything from electronics to weapons. Morty watched and helped. Rick had never enrolled him in school, maintaining that school was not the place for someone as smart as Morty.

 

Occasionally they would make space runs like this, although it was usually to sell things, which was Rick’s source of income. Sometimes Rick wouldn’t explain and just leave him in the ship. Even though he was secretive during those trips, he never left Morty home alone, once saying it was “not safe.” Morty was starting to get used to Rick’s guardedness, sarcasm, and functional alcoholism. Although Rick could be unreadable at times, it was clear that he did try to make himself accessible to eight-year-old Morty.

 

“Wh-What are you h-humming, Rick?” Morty watched Rick tap his long fingers on the wheel.

 

“Morty, say that again, but slower.”

 

“Wh-Wh-”

 

“Slower.”

 

Morty felt dumb, but repeated the sentence at half the speed. “What. Are. You. Humming?”

 

Rick tipped his head in Morty’s direction while still looking out the windshield. “Did you notice you didn’t stutter that time?” Blinking, Morty realized that Rick was right. “And I’m humming ‘Lose Yourself.’ Great beat.” He grabbed his bottle, took a swig, and belched. “Anytime you feel keyed up, speak slower. Take a deep breath before you talk.”

 

“H-H…” Morty tried taking a deep breath. “How did you know that?”

 

“I’m a fount of useless information.”

 

Morty looked out the passenger side window and wondered if Rick had helped his grandson with a stutter. The number of times Rick had talked about his family Morty could count on one hand. There were nights that Rick drank himself into a stupor, which he guessed might be related. Once he caught Rick drinking like it was going out of style in front of some silly comedy on TV, sitting in the dark. Morty had gone to bed earlier, but had come downstairs for a glass of water. He didn’t ask, afraid to push. Maybe if he were older…and braver…   

 

They passed the short ride mostly in silence, with Rick sometimes asking him to explain this or that about what he had been doing with the circuit board, how it might work. Morty often had a hard time taking the pictures in his head and forming them into words, but learning scientific and mechanical terms from Rick was helping.

 

Rick slowed their speed as they approached a small planet that was a streaky red and yellow ball, half-covered with deep grey clouds. Morty was certain he had never been there before. They broke atmosphere and Rick directed the ship toward a large city.

 

“Where are we, Rick?” Morty asked as the ship descended into a gritty neighborhood. They sky was dark and the streets illuminated with brassy light. He could see people – aliens – milling about the main road and alleys. He was pretty sure he saw one pushing a battered shopping cart. The building they were landing in front of was cream-colored stone that appeared to be held together with corrugated metal sheeting. Bars covered all of the windows.

 

The ship landed with a thump and Rick thumbed off the ignition. He ran his hands through his grey hair and made a face. “Err, there’s really no English word for it,” he said, freeing himself from his seatbelt. “It’s like –” Rick made a noise that was both chirping and gargling phlegm at the same time, “– but a lot of gun runners call it Crimson Sands, for the, you know, dirt.” He opened his door. “Let’s go, kid.”

 

Morty climbed out of the ship and Rick guided him into a treasure trove of _stuff._ Table after table was covered with bits and pieces of everything he could imagine, from coils of wire to specimen jars filled with who knows what to completely built devices. Morty looked along a far wall and saw what he assumed were androids or robots nestled together in a neat line.

 

Rick’s hand fell on his shoulder. “You okay by yourself?”

 

Nodding, Morty decided to just start with the table that was closest. “Y-Y…Yeah, Rick.”

 

“Come find me if you n- *buuurp* -need me.”

 

Morty turned his attention back to the table in front of him as Rick walked toward the front of the store. He wasn’t sure how long he spent picking things up, turning them this way and that, and letting his imagination work. He wanted to be inspired by what he chose, instead of trying to fit a component into something he was already playing with. It should be a brand-new idea, he reasoned.

 

When he found Rick, he was carrying more than one thing. He hated to exceed Rick’s one-item clause, but they didn’t have any of these at the house. He held the box the shopkeeper had given him out to Rick. “I-I know it’s more than one, Rick.”

 

The older man peered into the box. “Okay. Explain.”

 

“Um. The square is synthetic skin. I got some fiber optic cable a-and the stuff in the jar is a liquid battery.”

 

“Your neural net idea, upgraded.” Rick stuck his hand in the box and rubbed the synthetic skin between his fingers.

 

“Y-Yeah. I was going to do something else, but then I saw this.” He tried to read Rick’s expression, but the man seemed nothing more than serious and focused on the box’s contents.

 

Rick examined the jar, holding it up to the light. “What are you going to do for a transmitter and receiver?”

 

“I-I think I can build them from the stuff in the garage?”

 

“Morty.” Rick put the jar back. “It’s ambitious. Every scientist needs focus and shitloads of ambition. Let’s do this.”

 

At the counter, there was a much bigger box already waiting for Rick. Morty added his box to the counter. The shopkeeper inspected the contents with waving yellow tentacle-arms, then said, “Eight hundred and fifty flurbos, Rick.”

 

“ _Eight hundred and_ –” Rick sounded pissed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

Morty instantly worried that his choices had driven up the price.

 

“You’ve got fifteen plasma batteries in there, under all that metal scrap.” The shopkeeper folded all their arms.

 

“ _Yeah._ Did you notice how many are fucking _broken_? One doesn’t even have any plasma – I’m going to have to make that shit myself! That cuts into my profit, Hlargan.” Rick pointed his finger angrily at the box and then the alien.

 

The back and forth had Morty fascinated in spite of himself. He watched the argument like someone would a tennis match.

 

The alien snorted. “There’s plenty of other shops in the galaxy, Rick Sanchez.”

 

“Oh- _ho_ , so you say to your best customer. You want to rethink that, or should I take my flurbos elsewhere?”    

 

Rolling his five eyes skyward, the alien said, “Fine. Six hundred and fifty flurbos.”

 

“Five hundred.”

 

“Five seventy-five.”

 

“Done!” Rick fished a wallet out of his back pocket and slapped a clear plastic card onto the counter. Hlargan waved it over a box mounted to the counter and passed it back. Rick made the card and wallet disappear back into his pants pocket.

 

“Good doing business with you, Rick.”

 

Rick handed Morty his box and took his own into his arms. “Yeah, yeah. See you later. Get some more damn batteries, will ya?”

 

Carrying his box with reverence, Morty trailed Rick out of the store. Once they were outside, Rick looked back at him and said, “And that’s how you haggle.”

 

“I thought you were fighting!”

 

Rick opened the ship and stuck his box behind the driver’s seat. He took Morty’s box and did the same. “Nope. Haggling is a pretty universal thing. They start high, you start low, eventually you reach something reasonable. And arguing is fun, so there’s a perk.” He leaned his back against the ship and folded his arms. “Ready to go home?”

 

“Y-Yeah. T-Thanks, Rick. For everything.”

 

“Morty,” Rick raised an eyebrow, “don’t get sappy. Now come on.”

 

***

 

Getting close to evening, Morty had his new parts laying on the kitchen table. Rick had cleared half of the table off for him, since it was easier for him to sit and work. Morty had tried working in the garage, but reaching the workbench with his short stature was uncomfortable, even with a chair. Rick had disappeared after taking things to the garage, probably for a cigarette, he assumed.

 

Morty picked up the synthetic skin and rubbed it between his fingers and thumbs. It had the weight and flexibility of silicone, but was silky to the touch. The color was a faint blue, almost white. There was a top and bottom surface, he decided, because one side was slicker than the other. He set the skin aside, inspected the cable briefly, then turned to the liquid battery. His idea was to somehow infuse the skin with the battery, either through holes or perhaps it was porous enough to soak in the liquid. Then the network could, theoretically, operate without an external solid battery. He hoped, anyway.

 

The door from the garage opened and Rick strode in. When he got near the table, Morty could smell the sweet, spicy odor of whatever Rick smoked. He found the smell a bit comforting, but wasn’t sure why.

 

“Know what you’re going to do?” Rick flopped in his chair and indicated Morty’s haul with his hand.

 

“I-I-”

 

“Remember, slow.”

 

Morty inhaled. “I think so. I’ve got to see how permeable the skin is, though.” Rick nodded, looking thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“What?”

 

The question had popped into his head, but it had many times in the past few months. He had always shoved the thought away, but now that Rick seemed invested in his attempted inventions, Morty couldn’t ignore the topic anymore. “Is it bad that I don’t have normal brainwaves? I mean, I can’t shield you, that’s why I was at the Citadel. Are you safe with me around?”

 

Rick gave him a slight smile, showing a rare expression of kindness. “I knew you had the brain of a Rick, remember? That’s what intrigued me. It’s not bad, it’s unique.” He put a reassuring hand on Morty’s arm. “There’s always threats in the multiverse, Morty. If we need shielding, we’ll build some. After all, you would need it too.”

 

That hadn’t occurred to Morty, but he pressed on, “Do I…do I remind you of your grandson?” His voice had a pleading tone he instantly regretted.

 

Rick’s blue eyes darkened and his hand squeezed. “No. That must be confusing, being a Morty too. Trust me, it can be fucking confusing having a bazillion Ricks on the finite curve. But you are your own person and you don’t see all the differences that I do. Understand?”

 

Morty nodded slowly, focused on Rick’s face and the press of his hand.

 

“Good.” His hand lingered a moment longer before he sat back. “Now, do you want some help with that or do you want pizza?”

 

“U-Um, pizza?”

 

Rick slapped the table. “A wise choice! Unless you want pineapple, then you’re on your own, kid.”

 

Morty colored a little and smiled.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The next installment might be slow, because I'll be out of the country for two weeks. We'll see. There will be a big age jump in the next tale...


End file.
